


Shadows in the Dark

by Dziude



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character death (kind of but kind of not), Drama, Eventual Romance, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Questions, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tags are Vague as Fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dziude/pseuds/Dziude
Summary: "The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows." - Gaston BachelardThis is the beginning of something which is still evolving and I will update as we go along. It starts out a bit grim but is intended to improve.





	Shadows in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Well, shit. Aren't I a cheerful little sunray this morning. This something I am working on- slotting the pieces together into a proper story. The tags etc for all this will be adapted as it develops. Playing fast and loose with canon & canon timelines etc. 
> 
> Comments are the best thing and I love any feedback or questions. I now have a tumblr at [DziudeWrites](https://dziudewrites.tumblr.com/) and I don't really know what is going on.

The world seemed to tilt before his eyes. Everywhere was blood and fire and death. Thorin lurched forward through the chaos, swinging Orcrist before him, but his movements were slow and clumsy as a drunkard’s. He could not focus -  his very thoughts were dull and twisted sickly away from him. Something was terribly wrong.  
  
_Where are you?_  
  
Distorted screams and yells rang out and time itself seemed to skip and stretch, stuttering around him. He roared in frustration against the  _wrongness_  of it all. The trees burned with a sinister light and the moon shone red as gore.  He knew his companions were fighting somewhere nearby but everything was indistinct and he could not pick them out in the shifting sea of violence. There was something.. something he had to do. He must find-  
  
An orc lunged forward, and he ran it through with as much force as his numb body would allow. He heaved the blade free and staggered back as the creature’s innards tumbled, steaming, to the earth. Viscous, black fluid dripped from ruined lips as it looked him in the eye…. and smiled. Everything seemed to spin and twist again as he turned away.

 _Where… where are you… where… where are you?_  
  
Higher up the hillside, a warg howled, cold against the darkling sky. Even amidst all this horror, the sound sent a spike of dread through him and he looked up. Azog was leering down at him, a twisted cleaver raised to strike as he leapt from the rocks above. His maggot-white flesh shone like a nightmare in the light of flames. With a mighty effort, Thorin forced his leaden limbs to cooperate. If this was to be his end, so be it- he would meet it as best he may. There would be time for regrets after- or there would not. The son of Durin steeled himself and raised his sword to meet his enemy-  but the impact never came.  
  
The monstrous orc was screaming past to fall on something behind him with a terrible, bone-rending sound.  
  
_No. No, no, no…_  
  
Suddenly all the strength poured back into him, and he was roaring. Orcrist whistled through the poisoned air towards the back of the orc’s neck, and then Azog’s head was rolling at his feet. The corpse shuddered and jerked as it careened into the smouldering vegetation- but the monster's blade did not fall with it.  
  
It remained upright, fixed where it had been driven deep into the rocky soil. And something else.  
  
The burglar was pinned straight through the chest, and now it was _his_ blood steaming in the night. His small body trembled and shook, reaching out a pleading hand towards Thorin. Bilbo tried to choke out something around the dreadful rattle of his own breathing as the colour drained from his face.

Panic and despair rose up, and the dwarf barely noticed the harsh sting of tears on his cheeks. Thorin flung himself down beside Bilbo, clutching at the bloody fingers and pressing close to catch his words.

“Thorin… Thorin… It’s all  _your fault._..”

Azog’s head was staring at them from where it came to rest. It began spitting vile ichor and laughing horribly. The sound rose like madness and heartbreak- it screamed and echoed in his skull as the hobbit shuddered against him. Another wave of blood spurted forth and finally, all was still.

With a smothered scream, the King Under the Mountain started up from his bedroll.


End file.
